Make Me
by Gentle Breezes
Summary: In which Javik and Shepard engage in minor caustic bickering. There's also some hair. Drabble-fic. Slight Fem!Shep/Javik.


**Disclaimer: **Mass Effect 1-3 and all characters therein are the property of Bioware and EA, who will play games with my achy-breaky heart until the sun dies.

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He takes a strand of her hair in between his fingers, observing it cautiously. She waits patiently, bare shoulders soft in the dim light. She shakes her head a little, moving her hair, and because she has her back turned and can't see him he allows himself to look mesmerized. There's so much of it and it's very soft, but it has no use.

"...A useless extension," he says, rubbing a few strands from between his fingers and letting them fall.

She chuckles. "Should I shave it off?"

He scowls, but says nothing, maintaining the same expression when she allows herself a slight, smug look of victory and another chuckle. She shifts until she's sitting facing him, and runs her fingers through her hair it once before looking at him.

"Its peace time now," she says, starting to gather up her hair in her fingers to put it up. "You have an entire galaxy to explore. And I'm sure this cycle wouldn't be complete without the last prothean making trouble. You'll have to find something else to do now that the war is over."

"A soldier's job is never over," he replies with his usual stiffness, though his eyes watch her fingers as they thread in and out of the 'useless extension', gathering it up in bits so it will sit atop her head.

"Joining the Alliance?" she asked, holding her hair tie in between her teeth.

"Perhaps," he muses, finding it annoying how humans must look ridiculous like she does just now with that hair tie in her mouth, and how those ridiculous eyes sometimes read things like he does but without the need for sensory touch.

He's about to go for the stray strands of hair that have fallen out of place on her head, but she gets up from where she's sitting, causing his hand to reach further than it needs to before it quickly retracts. "Speaking of Alliance," she says, seemingly unaware of her hair's effect, "I have to meet with Admiral Hackett."

Silence. He stares at her retreating back, and continues to stare at her back as she scrutinizes her hair in the mirror and saves the last few strands with some hairpins. A sting of annoyance goes through him. "You had not stated you were busy," he says finally.

"Alliance work never ends. Join and you'll see what I mean," she adds, her voice deadpanning before she flashes him a smile and goes toward her small closet. "Plans for rebuilding. There's already a project for a new Citadel."

"A foolish move," he reflects, getting up and walking over to where she is before leaning against the wall with crossed arms. "Would it not be wiser to focus on rebuilding on the ground instead of chasing fancies in the clouds?"

"Your point's been covered in the meetings already," she replies, tugging out her dress blues, his eyes on what all she's doing until she looks at him. "But the people of the galaxy need hope. Seeing a new Citadel is going to be like lighting a beacon. It was the center of all intergalactic politics, commerce and events. When it does manage to launch into space, people will finally feel like things are on the mend."

"An inspiration of false security," he states, watching her adjust the cuffs of her jacket once she looks away, and then shake it once to get any wrinkles out of it.

"We have no enemies right now, so taking advantage would be good," she states patiently. She is used to the way he talks and acts.

Before she can move any further to put her jacket on, he grabs her wrist and stops her. Her eyes lift to him in question before she smirks a bit.

"Trying to keep me from work?"

"The fault is yours. You failed to state that you had work in the first place," he says, fingers tightening around her wrist ever-so-slightly with intent.

"You know you can't stop me from going to a meeting like this." But she's already let him take her jacket out of her hand and place it on the shelf nearby.

"I'm sure I can," he says, arrogant as always. Yet he's standing closer, fingers ghosting over her cheek.

"Make me," she challenges childishly (and rather nonsensically), meaning to look serious but a smirk coming over her face.

He smirks back, all too happy to oblige.

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**A/N: **I think the Shepard/Javik pairing is a wonderful oddity and I wish people would write lots more for it. Here's my unworthy contribution! *scuttles away*

I think this is my second foray into ME fanfiction. The stuff I've posted for Mass Effect so far has actually been posted elsewhere first for test-runs and for-the-heck-of-its (and to appease my own shippy heart). I'll likely come back and make edits when prudent because there's always room for improvement_._

Anyway, thank you very much for reading! I hope you liked it or at least found it humorous.


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